


British Summertime, They Call It

by Bellelaide



Series: Junk Dilemmas #13 [3]
Category: T2 - Fandom, Trainspotting
Genre: M/M, Trainspotting 2 - Freeform, trainspotting - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: The heat makes Renton and Sick Boy fizz with the feeling that anything is possible





	

**Author's Note:**

> Edinburgh is sooo lovely and sunny and warm today that i absolutely had to indulge in this. That'll be our one day Summer done!

The air was static with electricity in Edinburgh when the weather got above 15 degrees. Everything seemed to change: the architecture turned gold; the grass became vibrant and inviting; pub gardens packed with people forgetting responsibilities in order to soak up the often scarce vitamin D. 

Renton's skin thrummed with anticipation. Sunshine always made him nostalgic, remembering summers past and the heady sense that anything could happen when the city was like this - anything was possible. 

He, Spud and Sick Boy were sprawled lazily in the meadows enjoying a joint, the music from another group's guitar drifting over on the refreshing breeze. Smoke from barbecues danced toward the cloudless sky and it felt like Edinburgh was the centre of the universe. 

"Dae ye think it's less hot in Spain n that when it's pure hot here?" Spud asked, passing Renton the joint. 

"Aye, only wan place kin be hot at a time. Aw they bairns in Africa ur gettin thur winter woolies oot ae storage." Sick Boy replied sarcastically, taking the joint from Renton. Their fingers brushed and he cracked an eye open, a grin spreading across his face. 

Heat unfurled in Renton's stomach. Sick Boy looked magnificent in the sunshine, no even needing sun scream because of his Italian skin the jammy bastard. They were going through this weird phase of wanting to get each other off all the time, as much as possible, probably because they were so competitive and both wanted to be really good at it but also, if Renton was honest, because it felt really fucking good when they did. 

"We better get gon, catboys." Spud reminded them, sitting up and squinting in the sun. "Beggars willny be happy if wur late." 

Sick Boy sat up slowly and unfurled himself like a cat, stretching and flexing his muscles for Renton's benefit. Mark blushed and instantly berated himself for it. 

"C'mon then you doss fuckers. The day is young and so are we." Sick Boy stood up and started walking in the direction of the Pear Tree, where they telt the rest of the boys they'd meet them for a few drinks. Renton got up and followed suit, Spud bringing up the rear in his lolloping junky fashion. 

Renton fell into stride with Sick Boy, feeling the kind of way one felt before giving a presentation; or partaking in a bungee jump; or trying a class A for the first time. 

"Guessing by your halfwit silence you're wanting your cock sucked," Sick Boy said lowly out the corner of his mouth. "Dunno if a can be arsed in this heat mind you." 

"What yees saying?" Spud caught up with them, stupid yellow sunglasses reflecting the rays obnoxiously. 

"Trying to decide if a want a hit, Spud." 

"Well the answer, in ma opinion, is always yes, likesy." Spud replied. 

"Am no fussed, like. About a hit. Wid take it or leave it." Renton grumbled, sensing Sick Boy was in the mood to play games. 

"You're gagging on it ya cunt." Sick Boy said, turning as a group of girls passed them to wink at one of the blonde ones in a skirt. 

"Are ye sick Rents? Widny huv thought it." Spud observed, tripping over a loose paving slab and staying upright by the sheer will of God. 

"Naw am no." Renton retaliated, pushing his lanky legs faster so he'd be first in the beer garden and therefore not left to sit next to Begbie. They rounded the corner and Begbie, Gav, Tommy and Second Prize were at one of the benches with Alison, Leslie, Lizzy and June, a few pints down already judging by their animated voices and the selection of empty glasses scattering the table. 

They sat down, Renton and Sick Boy on opposite sides of the bench. Alison instantly attached herself to Simon and started talking to him in a low voice, her hand on his forearm. He indulged her whilst never taking his eyes off Mark, a glint in his eye. 

Renton got a round in and spoke to Gav for a bit, trying no to stare at Sick Boy and how his skin looked warm and brown and surprisingly soft for a twenty two year old junkie. 

Lizzy got up at one point and waved a posh looking cunt over, introducing them to him as her mate Robbie, who was at the uni with her. The boy was English and instantly rubbed Renton the wrong way, posh clothes and commanding aura threatening to upset the balance of the group and burst the bubble of sunny happiness he was floating in. 

Begbie obviously felt the same as he eyed Robbie intensely, waiting on him slipping up even a wee bit so he had an excuse to let rip. Renton was praying it would happen sooner rather than later and almost rubbed his hands in glee when Begbie got up for a round and Robbie followed to help, knowing the stupid bastard would rub Negbie the wrong way when they were one on one at the bar. 

Much to Mark's Chagrin they came back grinning and talking quickly, having bonded over a shared love of Rod Stewart. Robbie's Dad was some big wig in some music company or some shit and he had promised Begbie tickets to Rod's next gig, VIP of course. Renton seethed. 

"Comin fur a pish?" He turned to Sick Boy who was whispering in Alison's ear, ignoring him until Mark kicked him under the table. 

"You're a big boy, away to the toilet yersel ya fanny." 

Renton ground his teeth and lit a fag, feeling the magic of the day slide away the lower the sun sunk in the sky. Robbie was commanding some stupid conversation about how Labour were a defunct party and would never win government again. 

"You wouldn't think it, but the Tories are really good for Scotland. Who do you think created the Scotland office? It certainly wasn't Labour." 

"Wit aboot the poll tax?" Gav asked. 

"Actually, the poll tax was ingenious. It brought fairness to councils that were being destroyed by Labour. Why should - " 

"Do you think someone who lives up in Morningside and someone who lives in the bananay flats should be paying the same fur council tax? Honestly?" Renton cut across him, his eyes piercing right through the posh cunt. "Dae you honestly think in any way that's a good idea? Suppose ye dae, yer a fuckin Tory. And yees only created the Scottish Office cos yees were feart wit wis happening in Ireland wid happen here. Labour wid give us a referendum on our own parliament ya clown." 

"Am wae the Rent Boy on this yin!" Begbie shouted, and the rest of the group nodded their agreement. 

"Yeah mate, I do think everyone should pay the same. Rich people don't get their bins taken out any different than anyone else. Don't see why they should have to pay any more for it." 

"Of course ye think that. Daddy pays for you to live up here and you get to go around telling the schemies how fuckin barry it wid be living in abject poverty and under Westminster rule. Tell us somethin we dinny ken Robbie mate. I'd like to point out that your poll tax was so shite it didny last very long at all and that it actually wid have caused a deficit in terms ae losses gained by no longer having a top rate of tax but it's nice that you think so. Oh, and you look like a fuckin wanker in that tweed coat, mate." 

"Fuck sake Mark." Lizzy snapped, looking to Tommy to get his friend in line. Tommy stared at his glass and tried to keep his smile off his face. 

Robbie opened his mouth to retaliate but seemed to decide against it, somewhat surprised that this skinny druggy looking uneducated bam had piped up. He turned instead to Lizzy and asked her if she'd finished the philosophy essay, relieved when Begbie started up his own conversation over the top of him with Tommy and Second Prize. 

Renton took a gulp from his glass and looked up at Sick Boy, who was staring at him with that look in his eye. He cocked one eyebrow and Mark pushed himself up from the bench, no further encouragement needed, and headed into the pub. He got to the toilets and pretended to look at himself in the mirror whilst someone washed their hands, then leaving and passing Sick Boy on the way out. 

Mark turned to look at him. 

"Fuckin love it when your uni wank comes out." Sick Boy grinned, motioning to the single cubicle in the room. 

"Cunt wis annoying me. Ye no bringing Alison in n all?" Renton squeezed in the cubicle beside Sick Boy, jamming the door shut behind them. Sick Boy dropped to his knees and Mark heat up on the inside, his skin already clammy with the heat, his palms sweaty. 

"She's scheduled in for later." Sick Boy unbuttoned Renton's jeans and pulled them down, nosing at his cock in his pants and laying light kisses over his waist band. 

"If a knew taxation policy got ye this heat up ad start reading the Financial Times," Renton breathed as he fattened up against Sick Boy's big lips, unable to take his eyes off his tufty blonde hair. 

Sick Boy laughed and tugged Renton's pants down, his cock bouncing into Simon's face. "Ye ken how social inequality makes me," he murmured before licking a stripe up Renton's dick, right along the vein on the underside, pleased when a hand slid into his hair. 

He put his hands on Mark's hips and squeezed, the thin skin going white under his finger tips. Renton groaned as Sick Boy took him all in, bobbing his head routinely. His scalp was warm from the sun and his eyelashes looked so pretty fanned out across his flushed cheeks, his fingers pressing hard enough to Renton's hips to hurt a little bit. 

"'M gonna come soon, Si," Renton breathed, his hips stuttering into Sick Boy's mouth. "You're so good at this, so good at everything," he babbled, closing his eyes as he felt his spine stiffen and euphoria flood his veins. He always let Sick Boy know out of courtesy when he was close because he knew he hated swallowing, but it wasn't until after he came that he realised Sick Boy had swallowed the whole thing, his eyes glassy with arousal but his mouth turned down in quiet disgust. 

"That tastes fucking awful, eat some fruit will you." He got up and wiped his tongue on the back of his arm. 

"No one asked you to do it ya dafty." Renton told him, tucking himself back into his clothes and doing up his jeans. "Appreciate it but. Much cleaner." He put a hand on Sick Boy's erection and applied pressure, to which Simon closed his eyes and pushed into him. 

"D'y need me to...?" 

Sick Boy shook his head reluctantly. "Alison will get me later." He opened the cubicle door and straightened himself out in the mirror. "You go out first. And get that look off yer face, Spud'll think we've just hit up." 

Renton left the wee toilet and tried to compose his face into it's usual scowl, noting that the day was indeed young and, if he had anything to do with it, Alison wouldn't be anywhere near Sick Boy tonight. After all, anything was possible when Edinburgh was in a mood like this.


End file.
